Never Stop
by Lain Stardust
Summary: What if Hannibal and Clarice had 20 minutes instead of 10 before the authorities arrived at the end of the film?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**Thomas Harris owns them. I'm just borrowing them. 

**Author's Note:** This storyfollows film cannon except that it works under the premise that they had 20 minutes instead of 10 before the authorities arrived at the end. Picks up right at the end of the kitchen scene between Hannibal and Clarice.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Clarice turned her head as his arm made the small backward lift before coming down toward their bound wrists. Her eyes squeezed shut and an involuntary scream escaped her lips as the metal arched lower, her body jerking violently in tandem with the sharp clack of steel impacting wood. Her mind hung in numb suspension in the brief moments of silence following the sudden sound. It was only after the second click echoed in her ears that she came back to the present and the feel of blunt metal moving along her right wrist. Clarice's eyes slid to the right, head slowly turning, unsure of what she'd see, surprised to find her hand still attached to her arm, resting unfettered on the warm countertop. Her blue gaze traveled across empty space, finally encountering Lecter's left arm and perfectly intact hand tucking the now open handcuffs into his jacket pocket.

The cleaver was still held in his right hand, the bright metal reflecting the feral glint in his eyes, not catching the amusement she saw when she eventually lifted her gaze from his whole hands. Still trapped by the uncaring grip of the refrigerator door, she could only back up so far as the monster advanced on her slowly, a bare smile curling the corners of his red lips. Her eyes widened as one tip of the blade pressed against the hollow of her throat, pupils dilating as Lecter's face leaned in closer to hers. The breath caught in her chest as he lightly turned the metal at her neck, pressing hard enough to cause a thin stream of blood to trail down her breastbone.

The hint of a smile still played at his mouth as he said quietly, "Tell me, Clarice, did you know that to cleave is one of the few words in the English language that means both itself and its opposite—to cling together and to split apart?" He waited patiently in the silence that stretched between them, thicker than any prison cell had ever been. When no reply was forthcoming, he raised an eyebrow and asked, "No answer this time? I must say I'm surprised with you, Agent Starling. You've never been at a loss for words before. Perhaps you find it difficult to speak with such pressure weighing on you." At that statement, he removed the blade from her throat, reaching back to place it on the counter.

He tilted his head slightly as she remained mute to his questioning. "As I said before, I'm rather pressed for time and would like to put a comfortable distance between myself and this place before your associates arrive." The doctor leaned in close once more, face inches from hers as he inhaled deeply of her scent to take with him. "I regret that this must be goodbye for now, Clarice. I had hoped for a more pleasant evening," he offered with a bit of melancholy in his deep voice. Then his lips were lightly brushing hers again, only a fleeting touch before he began to withdraw from her.

Her lips moved against his slowly as she murmured, "Don't stop." She wanted desperately to close her eyes, to block out the violet ones staring back at her. Starling was afraid to meet his intense gaze, afraid not to, afraid he would comply and at the same time wouldn't. Her mind had broken free of its paralysis and was now thrown into a whirling chaos of conflicting needs, beliefs, wants, and desires. Nothing was making sense to her; she had reacted solely on instinct and found her rational mind more and more incapable of taking over the longer she held eye contact with Lecter. Some part of her watched as his grin widened at her tentative words, the full meaning of her earlier retort ringing clear in light of this sudden addendum.

And then she no longer had to think or watch as his mouth covered hers once more, different this time, steadier and more insistent as Clarice's eyes slid shut in agreement. She didn't move, couldn't will herself to budge as Hannibal's lips began to claim her, his mouth gentle and soft where she would have expected it to be hard and cruel, even in this type of exchange. It was undoubtedly the most sensual kiss she had ever experienced, his pointed tongue tracing the small space between her lips as she exhaled slowly, finding its way inside her mouth with no resistance. That willful tongue glided over the roof of her mouth and caressed its counterpart in deliberate strokes. She acquiesced easily, running her own tongue over his small white teeth, dipping inside the monster's mouth to taste him in return.

Hannibal's hands rested on her sides, thumbs stroking the bare flesh as he pressed her against the cool white metal behind her. His lips traveled along her jaw line, savoring each flavor he encountered in her skin, moving down to the thin line of crimson staining her chest. With maddening slowness, he captured the congealing blood on his rough tongue, gradually returning the skin to its freckled cream color. Unable to help himself, the doctor suckled lightly at the tiny wound, profoundly pleased when Clarice gripped his upper arms with a hissed, "Yes." Eventually, he resumed feasting on her hot mouth, warm palms moving to the pale expanse of flesh at the center of her dress to push aside the material obstructing their progress to her breasts.

Clarice gasped quietly as his fingers found her nipples and pinched them lightly, tugging at the rosy tips until they were pebbled tightly, his luscious mouth quickly descending to replace his hands. She impatiently pulled his shirttail free from his pants, small hands slipping underneath the whiteness to rub his broad chest, fingers playing with the light growth of hair there. A whimper escaped her throat as Hannibal nibbled on her tender nipples, his hands massaging her ass as he pulled her hips toward his. She couldn't wait—didn't want to—as her hands unerringly found the fastenings on his pants and undid them, reaching inside and freeing him before he could protest.

He stilled briefly as her hands surrounded him and began to stroke his length. There was no more hesitation on his part, his hands locating the slit in her dress and bunching it up around her waist. His thumbs hooked under the edge of her underwear and pushed them down, amused when she stepped one leg out of them, not bothering with the other one. They were both momentarily grateful for their similar heights as Hannibal grasped one of her thighs and pulled it high up along his waist. His knees bent slightly, fingers of his free hand sliding along her folds and coming away wet with her arousal before positioning himself at her entrance and cupping her firm ass in both hands. Clarice brought her arms up over his shoulders, hands locking together behind his neck as he thrust into her smoothly.

She moved up with him when he straightened his legs, her one dangling leg just reaching the floor on tiptoes. He created a fast rhythm between them, nearly sliding out of her tight body with each stroke. They remained in quiet erotic concentration, eyes never leaving the other as the urgency built in their coupling. The sharp tendrils of an impending orgasm worked their way through Clarice's flushed body, her head falling back at one point to thunk against the refrigerator door. She snapped it back up, however, when she felt sharp teeth pressing into the skin at her collarbone. Her eyes locked on his again, a grin spreading across her lips as his eyes narrowed in pleasure and he pushed harder into her. Her climax started deep inside her womb, and she buried her face in the side of his neck as it shot out along her nerves. "Hannibal…," she managed to whisper against his skin as she clung to him.

The sound of his name issuing from her lips in the moment of release combined with the sweet sensation of her muscles gripping him to send him over the edge after her. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her backside, teeth sinking into her shoulder and breaking the skin, bright drops of red welling up into his mouth. It was several moments before he regained his composure, kissing the bite mark that stood out starkly on her shoulder. Hannibal moved his lips back to hers, the taste of her blood still strong in his mouth.

She relaxed as she felt him begin to soften inside of her, a little regretful as he pulled back a bit and slipped out of her. He eased her down to the floor, running his strong hands up her back, kissing her softly one last time before he stepped away from her. His smile turned sad as he tucked his shirt back into his pants, fastening them again with efficient movements. "I _am_ sorry, my dear Clarice, but I believe our time together has drawn to a close. I do wish that we could prolong our encounter; however, under the circumstances, I think it would be best for us both if I leave now. Somehow, I don't believe the authorities would understand our current situation." Hannibal brought his hand up to caress her face, placing a tender kiss on her lips. "I will be sure to call on you again, Clarice," he promised quietly.

His hands gripped the edge of the refrigerator door, flashing her a grim smile. "Let me offer you one last bit of assistance before I make good on my escape." He pulled at the well-sealed door, a small grunt resounding as the appliance opened and her hair came free. A grimace contorted his face as he clutched at his left arm, knowing the feel of a dislocated shoulder when it happened.

Wordlessly, Clarice stepped up and held tight to his forearm, shooting him a look that clearly let him know to brace himself on something. Lecter pushed against the edge of the counter, hearing the loud pop as she jerked his arm back into place. Wounded arm tucked against his chest, he turned the leave, stopping when a hand fell onto his back. Clarice moved in close, gave his cheek a soft kiss, and murmured, "Be careful."

Lecter nodded briskly in acknowledgment. "Always," he returned and strode out the door, just missing the lone tear that tracked down Clarice's cheek as she watched his retreating back cross the lawn toward the lake.

Moments later, she ran her hands over her face, removing any traces of tears and wiped her palms on her skirt. Clarice adjusted the front of her dress and slipped her underwear back on, a pang of longing filling her chest as she started for the door herself, the sound of sirens loud in the open air. She hurried down to the shoreline, searching across it for any sign of Doctor Lecter. Lights flashed behind her in blue and red, shouts ringing around her. As her eyes lit on the boat, she could hear the team closing in on her. A quick glance confirmed the small craft was empty. It was with mixed feelings that she raised her arms above her head, calling out, "Clarice Starling—FBI!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One.

**Author's Note:** It's been a while, but here's the second installment. Number 3 should be coming in the next couple of days. Pleae R&R. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

"I hope for your sake that you're writing all of this down, Officer, because I don't intend to repeat myself again," snapped Clarice impatiently as she sat on the edge of the examining table in the local emergency room. Special Agent Clint Pearsall walked over to join the slightly harried police officer taking Starling's statement of the events at Krendler's lake house—the third such statement in an hour.

Her boss gave her an all-purpose smile of sympathy, having rehearsed it enough for it to almost look genuine. "Starling, this will be the last time. But you know how these things go; we have to make sure we get everything."

She gave both men a withering glare, taking a deep breath to calm her frazzled nerves and push down her anger at their tedious questionings. With a brisk efficiency, she recounted the events at Muskrat Farm and told of her actions once she woke at the house, never diverting from the truth until she came to her entrance into the kitchen. "I handcuffed Dr. Lecter to myself after he got the candlestick away from me…."

"Why to yourself, Agent?" interrupted the officer, a look of confusion crossing his ordinary and young face.

"There was nothing else close enough for me to chain him to," she retorted before continuing with her story, the same one she had already told twice earlier. "After a brief struggle in which the doctor dislocated his shoulder, he managed to trap me in the refrigerator." Here she described the manner of her short-lived capture, subconsciously running a hand over her hair. "When I continued to fight him in an attempt to try to detain him, Dr. Lecter bit me. Needless to say, it distracted me long enough for him to pick the lock on his wrist and escape. By the time I had gotten myself free from the refrigerator and the cuffs off, he was already gone. That was when backup arrived." Her eyes were hard and sparked dangerously in a warning against further questions.

An emergency room doctor came up to them then, clearing her throat to break the heavy silence that had pervaded the small room. "Gentlemen, if you would excuse me, I need to check Agent Starling's injuries. I'm sure you can talk to her later." The tall woman watched as the two men shuffled out, waiting until the door closed behind them before turning to her patient. "I'm Doctor Lewis," she said with a warm smile, extending her hand. "I hope you haven't been waiting too long, Agent Starling."

* * *

The next three weeks passed in a blur of debriefings, tabloid headlines, and sleepless nights. It was a nice break from her suddenly hectic life when Starling went to her routine follow-up with Doctor Lewis. The first genuine smile she could remember giving since July 4th lit her face when she saw the woman enter the examining room. "Clarice, it's good to see you again. How are you feeling?"

"Just fine, Doctor," she answered brightly.

"Shoulder giving you any trouble?" asked the doctor as she took her blood pressure and pulse.

"Only a little when I raise my arm above shoulder level. Otherwise it's fine."

"Let's have a look, shall we?" Dr. Lewis invited, gently probing the bullet wound and bite mark with her fingertips once Starling shrugged her shirt off of her shoulder and pulled her bra strap down her arm a bit. "Well, it all seems to be healing nicely, no infection." She picked up the folder with all of Clarice's information in it, flipping back a few pages and glancing over the notations there. "Your tests from yesterday's blood work have come back, too. Even though we checked you on your first visit, I wanted to double check the results now." The doctor's face turned serious as she looked up at her patient. "So far, no diseases have shown up in your system as a result of that bite; however, you know that HIV is still a possibility considering Dr. Lecter's culinary inclinations. It might be a good idea if you get tested every six months or so for several years." She waited for Clarice to nod. "There's one more thing, Agent."

Starling stood and began to gather up her purse to leave. "Okay. What is it?"

Dr. Lewis pursed her lips and looked down at her chart one last time then said, "You're pregnant." She watched with growing concern as Clarice's face went blank for a moment then drained of color as she sank into the chair beside the door, purse dropping unnoticed onto the floor. Lewis decided to take the wait-and-see approach.

Clarice's thoughts were in a large jumble that revolved around one word—pregnant. Several beats after the doctor's words registered, she remembered to breathe again. _Oh my God,_ she thought. _Pregnant? I hadn't even thought about that being a possibility. Who would have thought that it would only take that one time to…._ Suddenly, she blushed deeply, thinking back to just what exactly had put her in this predicament. _I wonder what Hannibal will think when he finds out. I wonder what the FBI will think. I would love to see Pearsall's face if he finds out who the father is._ That particular thought caused her to laugh out loud and startled Dr. Lewis to no end.

With an amused shake of her head, Clarice Starling stood once more and walked out of the doctor's office and headed for her car, an extra spring in her step. She realized she should probably be more concerned about the entire prospect of carrying Hannibal Lecter's child, but found she couldn't quite muster the indignation to do so. For some inexplicable reason, she was actually rather pleased with this unexpected turn of events.

She drove for a while on the highway, turning up the volume on the radio, the windows down. It was freeing, streaking along the asphalt at 80 mph, letting her thoughts go where they pleased without trying to constrain them. _Am I ready to me a mother? I think so. I have a home, a fair amount of money put into savings, a good job._ She chuckled a bit at that. _That is if they don't decide to fire me. But then, how long can I do my job if I'm pregnant? I can't very well go charging into drug raids with gun firing. If I stay at the FBI, I'll be stuck behind a desk as long as I remain there. Even after I have the baby, I still couldn't afford to put myself in dangerous situations like I have before._

A sigh escaped her lips as she pulled into her driveway, surprised to find herself at home, not realizing that had been her destination until she put the car into park. She went through her front door, dumping her purse on the bench as she passed it on her way to the kitchen. Clarice fixed herself a quick supper and sat at the table with a glass of iced tea, chewing slowly as she continued to mull the situation over in her mind. She finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen, making sure the doors were locked and turning out the lights before going to bed.

* * *

Clarice walked into Ardelia Mapp's side of the duplex early the next morning, a cup of hot tea in her hands. She found her roommate sitting on the couch, a muffin in front of her as she watched the morning news. Her friend smiled up at her and moved over a bit, making a place for her on the soft cushions. "Sleep well?" Ardelia asked. "When I came in last night you were already asleep, so I figured you needed it."

"Yeah," she nodded, sitting quietly. "Anything interesting this morning?" she indicated the television.

"Not a thing unless you count the weather," came the light reply. Ardelia turned her brown face to look at her friend, concern ghosting across her features. "What's the matter, Clarice? You're quieter today than usual."

A chuckle left Starling's lips as she leaned back. "You sure know how to cut to the chase, don't you." Taking a deep breath, she set her mug on the coffee table, not sure she wanted to do this. "Well, I have a newsflash for you."

"I'm not gonna like this, am I?" Mapp asked with certainty.

"Probably not. Since I'm not sure how to ease into this, I'll get to the point. I'm pregnant." She watched as Ardelia's mouth opened and closed twice before any sound came out, finding the sight absurdly funny.

"You got to be kidding. Tell me you're shitting me," she gasped, sure she heard wrong.

Shaking her head, Clarice grinned. "Nope; I'm gonna have a baby."

"Damn woman. You gotta be about two months to know, right?"

This was the moment she knew was coming and had prepared herself for. "Yeah. The doctor confirmed it yesterday."

"Who's the father, Clarice? You haven't been dating anyone that I know of." She was utterly confused by then, wondering why she didn't know that her best friend was involved with someone.

Starling shrugged. "A tourist I met at a bar one night. We hit it off, had a few drinks, I got a bit drunk and went back to his hotel with him. It was a one-time thing. He's long gone by now," she finished quietly.

"That doesn't sound like you, Clarice. What were you thinking?" Mapp fixed her with a worried gaze.

"I've done a lot of things lately that don't make much sense," she muttered. "There's nothing I can do about it now, Ardelia. I'll manage somehow, especially with you for a friend." Her smile was hopeful as she looked at her one steady support in life, the tears finally making their way to the surface.

The hug caught Clarice off guard, the distance between them swiftly closed as Ardelia enveloped her in long slender arms. "It's okay, baby. I'll be here for you. I promise." She held her longtime friend close, rocking her gently as the tears fell. It was the second time Mapp had ever seen Starling cry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter One.

**Author's Note:** I know. It has been a horribly long time since I updated any of my stories. Well, finally, here's something. I hope you all like it. Please let me know what you think.

**

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**

**Chapter 3**

Two days later Special Agent Clarice Starling walked into Clint Pearsall's office, not really surprised to find Assistant Director Noonan and Director Tunberry already seated. She blinked once, oddly calm considering the reason she had been called in. Pearsall indicated the empty chair across from his desk. "Have a seat Starling."

"I'd prefer to stand, Sir. I'm sure this won't take long," she responded simply.

Noonan spoke up then, shifting forward in his chair. "We've been reviewing recent events surrounding your actions at Muskrat Farm and later at…."

He didn't get any further as Clarice cut him off abruptly. "Excuse me, Sir, but if you're going to fire me, I wish you would just get to it. As a matter of fact, why don't I save you gentlemen the trouble?" She reached into her jacket and came back with her academy diploma, slapping it down on the desk hard enough to make the men jump. "Frankly, I'm tired of being used as the FBI's scapegoat whenever the shit hits the fan. You can keep your badge and title and go fuck over some other unsuspecting agent. I'm through dealing with assholes like you." She turned on her heel and headed for the door, pausing with her back to them, hand on the knob and said calmly, "Consider that my official resignation from the bureau." The door shut softly behind her with a light click of closure.

Clarice returned to the house she shared with Ardelia Mapp and slammed the front door hard as she entered, throwing her keys at the wall then slumped onto the bench, dissolving into quiet sobs. The first step had been taken that day, and she wasn't sure what the next step would be or where it would lead her. She knew her first priority would be to find a new job, something simple. That was the key Dr. Lecter had given her all those years ago in the old courthouse. "Keep it simple. Okay. I can do that," Starling whispered into the empty house.

* * *

"You quit?!!" demanded Mapp upon returning home and learning of the news several hours later. "What the hell are you thinking, girl? You got more than just yourself to worry about now, Starling." The dark woman gestured angrily at her friend. "Shit, girl, you got a baby now." 

"I know, Ardelia," she replied gently, blue eyes following the agitated movements of the woman in front of her. "I'll find another job."

Frustration edged into Mapp's voice. "What job? You're a trained FBI agent, Clarice. What company is going to hire you with the record Noonan is touching up for you? You know the references won't be good." She paced back and forth over the wooden floor. "Goddamn, Clarice. Hell kind of shit you trying to pull?"

"I will find a way. But I'm not going back to taking the fall for any more fuckups." Her voice took on a note of heated determination. "I'm going to give this child a better life than I had. And I'm not letting myself get pushed around like my father did!" Her breath caught in her throat, then. She stood in stunned silence, unsure where she found the words and courage to voice that deep-seated resentment and anger.

Mapp stared at her friend for a while, waiting in the silence that hung heavily around them. "We all do what we got to, baby," she apologized softly. "You just got more to deal with than most of us." A few more minutes of standing there as she made up her mind and Ardelia headed for the kitchen. "Fried chicken sound good to you?" she asked.

"Yeah." Starling nodded, bringing her thoughts back into order. "Need some help?"

"What do you think? Get your pregnant ass in here and start cutting up the chicken," she called out from the kitchen, grinning when Clarice walked in and stuck her tongue out at her.

* * *

It was another two weeks before Clarice received word from Hannibal Lecter. It came in the form of a small box delivered with the rest of her mail. She sat in the over-stuffed chair in her living room, the box on the coffee table in front of her. Curiosity and the fact that her roommate would be arriving home shortly overcame her hesitation and spurred her into action. The brown wrapper came off easily to reveal a cream-colored box, flat and not much bigger than a letter. Her fingers lifted the lid quickly, excited when she recognized the copperplate script on the front of the fine linen envelope. 

The wax seal was carefully loosened, letter sliding out almost as an afterthought. Starling unfolded the single sheet of paper, vaguely aware of her racing heart and quick breathing.

_Dear Clarice,_

_In the weeks since our last encounter, I have been occupied with finding a quiet niche in which to seclude myself. Having secured a suitable location, my interests are turning toward our reunion. It was with great reluctance that I left you so abruptly after our brief but enjoyable __tete__ a __tete_

_I must confess that I am curious as to whether you have returned to your old master yet. Does it disturb you to consider that side of the organization that has received the last ten years of your life and oath of fealty? Tell me truly, Clarice, how difficult is it to break the chains of a cruel and ungrateful slaver? I expect you are discovering the extent of your value in their eyes and are most likely searching for a way to sever the bond they hold over you._

_Rest assured that I am planning for our next meeting, Clarice. My return to your life will mark the completion of our previous exchange. Until then, remember "'…the dear pledge of dalliance had with thee in __heav'n__, and joys then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change __befall'n__ us unforeseen, __unthought__ of, know I come no enemy, but to set free from out this dark and dismal house of pain….'"_

_Ta,_

_Hannibal __Lecter_

Clarice took a deep breath as she finished reading the letter for a second time. He hadn't forgotten the way it felt to be so close, even for so short a time. Relief washed through her along with the vague thought that she should be more concerned that Dr. Lecter was intending to pay her a visit. Unconsciously, her hand settled on her belly, over her womb and the child who grew within. She wondered what he would think if he knew she had already severed those ties that held her to the FBI. _He'd be proud,_ she thought.

Her eyes drifted back to the box resting on the table. Picking it up again, she lifted a soft layer of cotton to reveal a delicately fine platinum chain. Carefully, she removed it from its soft bed and held it between her fingers, discovering its unusual length. With a slow smile of recognition, Starling bent over and clasped the gift around her left ankle, amazed at the feathery touch the light metal dusted across her skin. She looked down to be sure it was actually on, almost invisible against her pale flesh and so light that she barely noticed its presence. Her grin spread as she settled back into the chair. The anklet, like the baby, was a gentle reminder of Hannibal. It wasn't the same as his presence, but a small comfort nonetheless.

* * *

Starling spent the next month and a half getting settled into her new job at the Alexandria campus of Northern Virginia Community College as an instructor of psychology and criminology classes. Due to the fact that she was hired at the last-minute because of a shortage of faculty, added to the publicity she'd gotten lately over the Drumgo shooting and the Lecter fiasco, her classes were full to the point that several students had to sit on the floor. 

At that moment, she sat at her desk in the tiny office she had been given. Her eyes drifted upwards to look at the wall across from the door. On it she had her diplomas from UVA framed and hanging alongside clippings from the newspapers, magazines, and even tabloids—all chronicling her exploits while in the FBI. There were numerous pictures of her on raids, outside Jame Gumb's house, and, of course, Hannibal Lecter. The Lecter collection was by far the largest, taking up a wall of its own. While her FBI diploma remained conspicuously absent, she had decided to embrace her past and accept the decisions that had left such a lasting impact on her life.

Clarice realized that she had changed. No more running to "daddy" when things got rough. She was on her own now, finally. Though she still shared the house with Ardelia, she saw less and less of the woman as her new job kept her increasingly busy. She discovered that she logged more hours at this office than she ever did at the FBI, except when searching for Lecter. Students lined up outside of her door to talk to her during her consultation time. They followed her after class, wanting just a few minutes with her. She had already been asked to sponsor a new club for the criminal justice department. She loved it, basking in the attention and using it to her best advantage whenever possible.

A glance at the clock told her that she had a lecture in five minutes. Busily gathering up folders, books, and a small bag, Starling almost ran over the work-study bringing in the newspaper for her. She smiled, gave a quick apology, and stuffed the paper on top of her load. Entering the classroom with less than a minute to spare, she saw that all the seats were full, as usual. It was general psychology 1301 that was the focus of this particular group of students. She dumped her things at the table at the front and started the roll sheet passing around the room. The air in the class was relaxed and casual, most of the formalities pushed aside.

Clarice picked up a thick stack of papers from the mess in front of her and held them high. "I have in my hand your first test, graded and ready to return to you." Several moans and mumbles rippled through the group. "Don't worry. Most of you did very well. For those of you who didn't, the times and locations of study groups are still posted on my office door. I suggest you consider showing up at one." Once the tests had been returned, she began her first lecture of the day.

* * *

It was nine at night, and Clarice was getting ready to head home. She noticed the newspaper from earlier sitting amid some essays. Turning to the personals, she found the ad she had placed in the _Times_ for the last two days. It was addressed to Milton and signed Sin. It read, "I await your word and the release from these gates—thrice threefold and encircled by fire—that hold me thus double-formed. Paradise has never been so close." She looked at it again and nodded to herself. Yes, he would understand the message that she had so carefully composed. A crooked grin lit her face. Fortunately for her, the English department was right across the hall. 

Milton's verse had been easily recognized, and she had spent many hours reading and rereading _Paradise Lost_ to find a suitable answer to Hannibal's gift. It had taken a bit of work, but she had managed to secure a Post Office box with the number 902, only caring that those three numbers were used. She could rearrange her ad to fit the order. It had worked, and she hoped to get a response soon. And if she knew anything at all about Lecter, she wouldn't have to wait long.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Still the same as chapter one.

**Author's Note:** Yes. It has been an unforgivably long time since I posted anything. But I can promise at least one more chapter within a week. :) And Chapter Six is currently under construction. I just wanted y'all to know that I haven't forgotten you; I've just had a very healthy dose of Life thrown at me. And if you happen to read my other stories, look for them to get some updates, as well, this summer.

A very **BIG** thank you to all of you who have stuck with me.

**Chapter Four**

The small monitor showed differing shades of gray as the transducer moved through the cold gel on Starling's belly. She watched the screen intently for any sign of the life growing within her. Slowly, a lighter shape appeared in the upper area of the view, a mere two and a half inches long. Clarice's eyes grew bright and teared up as she gazed at the small image.

"There it is, Clarice," Dr. Lewis said softly, smiling at the reclining woman. "All of the major organs have formed and simply need time to grow." The tall brunette watched as Starling's eyes followed the fluttering movements of the tiny fetus. "Let's see what we can find." She moved the ultrasonic transducer over Clarice's slightly bulging abdomen, pointing out the various parts—eyes, and fingers and toes—that were beginning to take shape.

A delighted whisper slipped past the redhead's lips. "Oh my God. That's my baby…. It's really happening." She shook her head in amazement. "I can't believe it." She looked back to the doctor as the image blurred, worried when she saw the frown. "What is it? Is something wrong?" Her voice was shaky, edged with a frantic quaver.

Lewis tilted her head to the side as she moved the probe again. "No, nothing's wrong." She hesitated a moment more, scrutinizing the image in front of her. A smile slowly crept over her features and she announced brightly, "Clarice, I do believe you're going to have twins."

"What?" The new professor's eyes widened in disbelief. "No…. It can't be possible. I mean…." She trailed off then looked back at the woman beside her. "Twins?" she squeaked. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Dr. Lewis pointed to a light area on the screen. "See that? That's baby number one. And this," she began, moving the probe once more, "is baby number two. Both look just fine and are well positioned. There are two sacs, so they're more likely to be fraternal, not identical." She grinned at her dumbfounded patient. "Better start preparing to double everything."

"Sonvabitch," Starling muttered. "The sneaky bastard got me pregnant with twins," she said, a laugh bubbling up in her at the absurdity of it. She smothered her giggles and sat up as Lewis finished wiping off the rest of the gel. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm just a bit overwhelmed. Thank you for everything." She slid off the examining table and began to dress. "When's my next appointment?"

The doctor smirked in response to Clarice's outburst. "One month. In the meantime, ease up on any strenuous exercises and start trying to sleep on your sides if you tend to sleep on your back. It will help with the amount to blood flow and oxygen that get to the babies. Other than that, same as before."

"No problem, Doc." She grinned and took the video and pictures of her sonogram. "See you next month." Clarice walked unhurriedly to her car, her thoughts chasing around in her head. _If I thought it was gonna be hard to tell Hannibal that I'm pregnant, how the hell will I tell him I'm having twins? I still can't believe it…. Twins! _She still had the idiotic grin on her face when she went to bed that night.

* * *

The air stirring on the back porch was warm, still tepid in early October. The newspaper rustled on the low wicker table as the breeze picked up. A delicate china cup was placed back in its saucer, the paper picked up in its stead. Pale blue eyes quickly found and read the passage of interest. _Sin,_ he mused to himself. _Quite interesting. I'm not surprised she would see herself in that particular role._

Hannibal Lecter lightly tapped the folded paper on the arm of his chair. _I wonder how she sees me in this context. Am I her father? Her lover? A little of both, perhaps?_ He pursed his lips as he considered the possibilities. _Of the two, I prefer to be her lover. Though I admit that in the past my role has been more of a guiding and parental one. However, the mention of paradise seems to confirm her actions are being led by a desire to have a more physically intimate relationship._

Standing, he collected his cup and paper, going back inside the large, modern ranch house. He closed the French doors behind him with a light click, moving to the writing desk situated in a well-lit corner of the study. His hand moved across the fresh page he had placed on the desktop. In a few short minutes, his letter was penned, ink slowly drying as he proofed the paragraphs for any unlikely mistakes.

_My dearest Clarice,_

_I feel I must compliment you on your clever use of John Milton's prose—an insightful interpretation to say the least. I trust this letter will find its way to you through a box acquired under a pseudonym. That was very thoughtful of you, making my contacting you an easier feat. It would be unfortunate, indeed, should your former employers discover our correspondence in your regular mail._

_Yes, I know about the little scene you caused in the FBI a few weeks ago. Well done, my dear. It is heartening to see that you have finally broken out of your chains and declared yourself free of their clutches. However, I am concerned that you still feel yourself locked in an unwanted position. Tell me truly, Clarice, is it your own set of morals holding you in place, or rather, are you now bound by the intense scrutiny of the media and the prying eyes of political opportunists likened to Paul Krendler? Speaking of the boorish upstart, don't you think that he would make a wonderfully effective scarecrow?_

_On to more pressing matters. I have obtained a spacious and comfortable ranch that will easily suit our needs. Not to worry, Clarice, no sheep or slaughter horses here, merely common cattle. It is a holding I have had for a time but never taken the occasion to enjoy. At the moment, it is a most appropriate place for us to rest and become better acquainted while the authorities continue their futile search for me and, very shortly, you. In that vein, it would be best if you settle any unfinished business and prepare for departure from your current life. Just a short while, and I will be arriving to collect you and anything you deem necessary._

_With that instruction in mind, I leave you to make what preparations you desire. When you next hear from me, it shall be in the form of a personal appearance. Until that moment,_

_Yours faithfully,_

_Hannibal_

Lecter smiled to himself as he sealed the envelope and readied it for mailing. The anticipation of their next meeting was causing his stomach to tighten just a bit. As he began to arrange things for his trip, he hummed a little, a light spring in his step as he moved from room to room in the airy Texas home.

* * *

The last strains of a rather loud Aerosmith song reverberated through Starling's side of the duplex, seeping into Ardelia's half on occasion. Clarice wasn't worried about it as she relaxed into her chair and munched on some crackers. Her friend was at work while she was able to stay home and kick back. She had a large pile of papers in front of her, some graded, others not. The one she held wasn't half bad and had suffered very few bright green marks in the margins. She was firmly resolved to make that the last psych paper she'd read before she started grading the criminology tests.

Fifteen minutes later and she was almost finished with the short stack of exams. Leaning forward in her chair, she kept one hand on the papers in her lap as the other reached for her glass. Starling took a few sips of the raspberry tea and popped a green olive into her mouth before moving backwards again.

"Good afternoon, Clarice," a rich voice greeted her from behind.

She screeched in surprise and jumped at the sudden sound, tests sliding out of her grasp and onto the floor. Her head whipped around to confirm what her ears had registered. Standing in her living room was Hannibal Lecter himself, a slight grin creasing his face as he looked down at her. She took in his khaki slacks and light brown sweater, noting absently how the simple but neat clothes suited him. "Thanks for knocking," she commented sarcastically then graced him with a smile.

"Ah, but that would have spoiled the fun of seeing you so flustered," he replied smoothly, his eyes shining with amusement.

"Hmm. Well, now that you've had your fun, be a gentleman and help me pick up the papers I've dropped." She carefully held what remained of her stack, leaning over to the side to begin gathering the tests that had escaped her. When she looked up from her bent position, she found Lecter squatting beside the chair, papers in hand. Her eyes locked with his as his head came up. It was only a matter of stretching her neck a few inches to brush a kiss across his warm lips. Her eyelids fluttered shut, lips capturing his once more, feeling the light tug as she moved back. Clarice finally opened her eyes, finding him in the same spot, watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. "I missed you," she murmured quietly, a bare smile reaching her eyes.

A slow grin spread across his features at her statement. His free hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb stroking over the soft skin. "I had hoped as much," came the quiet reply. After a few more seconds like that, he withdrew a bit, holding out the tests he had retrieved. "I believe you wanted these." The smile still played at the corners of his red mouth.

"Thank you." She took them from him, fingers brushing his briefly. She stacked all of the tests back on the table, not sure of where to go from there. Her eyes moved rapidly around the room, wondering what to do or say next. He was there; that's what she had wanted. _So now what do I do?_ she thought.

He was silent for a while, watching her, seeing her uncertainty grow with each passing second. "Ironic that you would be teaching others to uphold the principles that you have cast aside, Clarice. I'm sure your students enjoy the idea of being instructed by a celebrity."

She chuckled lightly, tilting her head to one side. "Oh, they enjoy it much more than I do. For me, it's mainly a steady income. Plus, I like imparting my knowledge to others." Her smile was amused as she looked up at him when he stood.

He held out his hand to her, smiling back. "Come. We need to gather your things and leave." Her hand reached out to him, and he pulled her to her feet, gaze sweeping over her form. He paused his assessment at her slightly swollen belly, curious eyes moving up to meet hers.

Her eyes shifted from his intense gaze, nervous and unsure of his reaction. "I found out at the follow-up for my shoulder. They're perfectly healthy," she reassured, not knowing what else to say.

An eyebrow shot up sharply, the only indication of surprise on Hannibal's face. "They?" he questioned.

Clarice looked up then, finally making eye contact with him. "We're having twins," she replied, barely audible. She squirmed in the silence after her statement, agonizing over his response.

"This is an unexpected turn of events," he said softly, watching her chew on her bottom lip and finding it utterly adorable. Finally, he decided to set her mind at ease. "I suppose it's a good thing that the house I have for us has plenty of rooms." His amusement found its way to the surface as Starling's eyes grew wide and her mouth opened slightly. Her expression was priceless, and he swiftly committed it to his memory palace, not wanting to forget that particular look.

"You don't mind?" she asked tentatively, still reeling after his easy acceptance of the situation. "You're not upset?"

"Not at all. On the contrary, I must admit to being more than a little pleased. I had, on occasion, considered the idea of having children. However, circumstances had never allowed such attachments." He lifted a hand, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "And while this is happening much sooner than I had thought, I could not ask for a better partner to start a new life with."

She smiled back at him, a huge burden lifted off of her shoulders, odd considering that she was preparing to embark on a life with a convicted serial killer. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she leaned in to kiss him softly, getting lost in the feel of his lips on hers. Her hands slid up the sides of his neck to hold his face close to hers, thoroughly exploring his delicious mouth before pulling back reluctantly. Taking firm grasp of his hand, she led him to the bedroom to help finish getting her things ready.


End file.
